Fever
by breannatala
Summary: ONESHOT. Harry's having a bad day. Snape's there to enjoy it. Or is he there to help? In Harry's current state of mind, he's not so sure anymore. NOT SLASH.


**Disclaimer: Don't own. I wouldn't want to own a fever anyway. Unless I could order it to go away whenever it came near . . . What? Oh, sorry. I meant I don't own Harry Potter, but I figured you could gather that for yourself.**

**Claimer: Almost pointless. Unless you like Harry and Snape interacting. Then . . . well, still pointless. But fevers usually are, aren't they? Well, despite the fact that they aid in helping your body get better, if it doesn't get too high . . . Yeah, alright. I'll shut up. Go off and read, and leave me here to rot. See if I care.**

**A/N: Ignore my alter-personality. She was necessary in order to write this fic, but she's leaving now.**

I had two words to say to the world: Life. Sucked.

"Potter! I told you to concentrate! Stop being an incompetent brat and do the spell. _Correctly_ this time!"

First, the Dursley's decided they no longer wanted me around. At all. So, they kicked me out. Second, the Weasley's were having financial problems, since the Ministry of Magic was having problems because they finally declared that Voldemort was back and has mostly gone into some sort of chaos. Well, maybe not that bad, but Mr. Weasley's pay went down enough that they couldn't take me in for more than short periods of time. Third, I was having trouble sleeping at night, so I had a constant headache. Fourth, I was stuck at Grimmauld Place, most of the time alone.

Fifth, when I wasn't alone, I was with Snape. Sixth, when Snape was over, it was because he was giving me lessons.

Basically, life sucked. And Snape was intent on making it worse for me. If he stopped yelling at me and let me think, maybe I _could_ do the spell correctly.

"Potter, you are doing it all wrong! Have you always been this incompetent? Most likely a trait passed down from your father. He was never able to do anything worthwhile, either. Always up for fun, and nothing else . . ."

Point understood? Well, I didn't let him finished. I snapped.

"You never give me a chance, you bastard! Just give me a chance to think! You don't allow me to practice outside of these lessons, and you expect me to be able to do it just like _that_, without showing me! Just . . ." I couldn't continue. Now that I got that out of my system, I just sat down. There wasn't a floor beneath me, so I ended up on the floor. Hard. "Sorry," I apologized and sighed. It was a short rant, yeah, but if felt good. Except for my headache. That increased tenfold, and I couldn't sit anymore, so I laid down with my palms pressing on my temples in an attempt to stop the pain.

It felt as if I was like that for an hour, but it couldn't have been more than a minute or so until the pain subsided enough to open my eyes. I looked up and saw Snape standing there with him arms crossed, glaring at me. I couldn't help but glare back.

"When you are done with your pathetic display of emotions . . ." Snape started, but then stopped. Surprised at the halt, I watched him expectantly. I've never heard Snape just _stop_ like that. It was then that I realized why. Snape was clutching his left arm. "Study. And do not blow up the house. I will be back later to finish this." Snape left, leaving me and my headache to our own devices.

Wow, I wish I had a headache potion. Or at least some muggle headache drugs. Or sleep.

Sleep sounded good. I only got up two hours ago, but sleep really sounded good. After I made it up to my room, which I did my best to personalize since it was mine until I moved out, I closed the curtains and burrowed under the covers of my bed (man, how much I loved my bed at that moment) in order to block out every bit of light that might have made in past the curtains.

Yeah, bed was good.

SSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSss

I woke up to my covers being torn off me, and the curtains being tossed open.

"I leave you here to study, and I find you have gone back to bed! You lazy, incompetent fool! Get out of bed!"

I moaned and attempted to get out of the light. It was really hurting my eyes. Really. Snape then went to grab for me, and brushed against my forehead, and I fell back onto the bed, jumpy at the touch. I don't know what Snape was trying to do. Probably went to grab for my hair in order to get me to move. He did that to me before, the bastard. And it worked.

I was ready to roll of the bed and then under it if Snape was about to attack me again, but he didn't. He just stood there for a minute, staring at me. I tried to stare back, but the light was too bright, so I just closed my eyes, laid down, and hid my head under the pillow. Snape obviously didn't like that, because he grabbed the pillow and threw it off the bed. I was about to protest about how mean he was being, but then I noticed he had his wand pointed at me, and I tried to scramble away from him.

Well, that only served to cause my head to hit the ground – hard – when I fell off the bed.

"Potter, get back into bed. I will be back," Snape said. Or something like that; I wasn't really paying attention. My headache just got worse again. I did get back into bed, though, and hid entirely under the covers with the hope that Snape would just cease to exist so I could get back to mourning the days that didn't consist of a headache.

Some good that hope did.

"Drink, Potter," Snape spat, and I glared at him suspiciously.

"Are you trying to poison me?" I asked, then mentally hit myself. If he was trying to poison me, of course, he wasn't going to tell me so! I didn't notice if Snape answered because I was back under the covers.

Snape uncovered me again. This was really getting annoying. He said something about a headache, though, which got my attention.

"What?"

"For your headache," Snape said. At that point, I stopped caring if it was poison. Either it was poison or a headache potion, and both would eventually stop the headache, so I was eager for either at the time.

Well, no, I wasn't. But I was pretty sure it was a headache potion. It smelled like one, anyway. Yuck. Tasted like one, too.

"What's that for?" I asked as Snape handed me another potion.

"Your fever."

"I don't have a fever," I argued.

"You do, Potter," spat Snape. "You will drink this now, or I will leave you with the consequences of your fever getting any higher."

"Just a fever," I muttered, and Snape glared at me. I took it, though. I should have asked for a sleeping draught to wash it down with. It sure would have tasted better. Snape was gone before I could say anything. Not that I would have. Any meaner, the cost of spending the few minutes with him would almost be too much to get rid of the headache. Almost.

Finally, sleep without a pounding head. This was going to be good.

SSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSssSSss

I woke up to a dark room. That was weird. It made me want to go back to sleep, but my stomach was telling me it wanted food. I spent several minutes in bed while my stomach argued with the rest of my body over whether the warm, comfortable bed was more important than food. My stomach, despite being a very small part of my body, won. Damn. That meant getting out of bed.

I trudged downstairs to run into Snape when walking into the kitchen. Literally. I fell on my butt. Just one more body part that decided it needed to hurt, I guess.

"What are you going out of bed?" Snape snapped, and I glared up at him, not really willing to use the energy it would take to get up. Him asking me that question was weird. Wasn't he the one who was trying to get me out of bed before? Or was that Uncle Vernon? It couldn't have been Uncle Vernon, as he wasn't here . . . right? Wow, I was confused. Why couldn't I remember what happened before?

"It's lower," Snape mumbled to himself, and I wanted to protest. Was Snape calling me an it, now? I realize I was on the floor, but that doesn't mean I'm no longer a person. "Potter, your fever is several degrees lower, but it is still high." Oh. He was talking about my fever. I have a fever? That was news. Or was it? So confusing. I didn't know if I could take it. "I'm going to trust you to take the fever-reducing potion on your own. Do not take it before you are supposed to. Take one in half an hour, after you eat. The next one, you may take in no less than nine hours from now. Understand?"

"Er . . . yeah," I answered. "Why are you being all nice and such?" I cringed at the question. Obviously, I have no sense of danger when I'm sick.

"Don't get used to it, Potter," snapped Snape. "If your fever wasn't dangerously high before, I would not have bothered babysitting you for the past three days."

Wait. What? Three days? Wasn't he just here for a lesson a little while ago? I wondered what happened in the past three days, but I couldn't remember much of it at all. Or anything, actually. But it must have been bad if _Snape_ stuck around.

"Er . . . thanks," I answered, suddenly embarrassed, and Snape stalked out of the room, robes all billowy, without giving any noticed that he heard me.

After that, I couldn't do much but make myself a sandwich and spend the time while I was eating trying to remember the past few days. No luck. I just hoped I did nothing embarrassing.

I could imagine that going around the school. And I'd have no idea if it was true or not.

Man, I hoped Snape had the ability to keep him mouth shut and choose not to embarrass me.

After that, I decided to try to forget the things I couldn't remember in the first place and think about something better. No luck there, either.

Yeah, life sucked.


End file.
